Uncharted 2: Among Thieves - The Novel
by Psych0t1c
Summary: Since I'm out of any original ideas, prepare yourself for Nathan Drake's most dangerous adventure in the Uncharted 2: Among Thieves Novel! - [Insert blurb on the back of the disc case for U2 here] All rights to Uncharted and all characters in this fic except a select few are trademarks of Naughty Dog and not me.
1. Prologue - Cliffhanger

_"I did not tell half of what I saw, for I knew I would not be believed..."_

_\- Marco Polo on his deathbed, 1324_

* * *

Darkness. Then light, blinding light as sparks flared and seared Nathan Drake's eyes as he slowly opened them. He reached up and rubbed his eyes with one hand, trying to get himself alert and assess the situation as snow swirled around him.

"Whass' goin' on," he slurred groggily to himself. From what he could see, he was in the wrecked chassis of a train. The seat he sat on was identical to the row of them down both sides of the carriage, faded red but comfortable.

Nate was sprawled on one, but strangely, rather than his backside pressing against the seat he felt as if his back was the one being held against the seat by gravity. He tried to stand, but a searing pain shot through his side and he collapsed back into the chair with a moan of agony.

It was only when he glanced down at his side that he saw the blood.

A lot of blood.

"That's my blood... that's my blood, that's a _lot of my blood_," he murmured.

He'd been shot, no doubt about it. As he stared at his blood coated hands and thought about who'd done this. A name was starting to come back to him... then he glanced out the window and saw the blinding white snow falling to his right instead of down.

"What?" Was all he managed to say before something slammed into his chair and broke apart on impact. He looked up the carriage, and stared in horror as a barrel tumbled past him to the doors at the other end.

"Oh _God_!" Nate gasped as all thoughts of who had shot him vanished from his mind as the barrel crashed through the doors, and tumbled down. And Nate realized why he felt gravity on his back and not his backside. _Oh, this is even better than I expected_. He thought sarcastically, trying to keep the horror from setting in. It didn't work.

Then his seat shifted. It began to peel away from the wall, lured by gravity and it's sweet embrace. As the seat slowly wrenched free Drake leapt from his chair in a last ditch attempt to save his skin.

As the chair tore free and tumbled out of the carriage, Nate managed to grab and hold on to another one of the chairs. His wound reminded him it was still there, but Nate ignored it. He grinned as he began to climb the chair, but then it gave way too.

Nate found himself falling feet-first towards a grisly death at the hands of gravity, hands grasping for something, anything to save him.

There was nothing.

Fortunately for him, as he plummeted through the doors he passed a bright yellow railing.

He reached for it and hooked his fingers around it, holding on for dear life even as his arm was nearly jerked out of its socket and the pain from his gunshot wound nearly blacked him out.

And there he hung, who knows how high in the air, dangling from a wrecked train carriage which in turn was dangling off a cliff. And he had only one thing to say.

"Oh crap."

* * *

**It's short, I know, but this is just the prologue! More will come, I promise. As of now, just sit back and enjoy. Reviews will be greatly appreciated, so go ahead and tell me what a crap writer I am.**


	2. The Legacy Of Marco Polo

_3 months earlier..._

* * *

The sound of waves crashing against water surrounded Nathan Drake as he sat tiredly on a stool in a bar, bottle of wine in hand. Lately he'd been feeling rather dejected - he put it down to the feelings of being rejected by Elena Fisher 2 years previously.

As soon as he'd seen her, he'd fallen in love with her. He didn't know if it was her spirit, never giving in or giving up or her looks, or the way she spoke. He just knew he loved her.

And she had said no. Very nicely, though.

Nate sighed and gulped down another mouthful of wine, trying to block out the memories of his rejected love with some good old wine.

So concerned he was with his memoried that he didn't notice the well-built handsome man sidle up next to him and lean against the bar.

"Buy me a drink, sailor?" He quipped, grinning.

Drake turned to tell the man where to shove his quip, but as he laid his eyes on him his face lit up with recognition.

"Harry Flynn?!" He exclaimed, dropping the wine to stand and hug his old friend.

"I haven't seen you since that Khmer Statue incident with Sully back in Ankor Borei! What the hell are you doing here?" He asked Flynn after they'd parted.

"I'm looking for you, mate," Flynn replied, gesturing at Nate.

"Uh-oh," Nate grinned. "Should I be flattered, worried, or downright scared?"

"Maybe a little bit of all three," Flynn said as he nabbed Nate's wine and led him to a small table, chuckling. They sat down and Flynn handed Nate his wine back, who promptly took a big gulp out of it.

"Alright, I've got a job for us. A client, grumpy old bastard, is willing to part with a huge sum of cash if we 'acquire', emphasis on acquire, a certain object for him."

"Sounds fair enough. How much, exactly?" Nate asked.

"Around 45 million," Flynn replied, grinning as Nate nearly dropped his bottle of wine.

"Okay, I'm listening." He said as his bottle clinked onto the table. Flynn nodded in agreement and pulled out a pamphlet, hiding it behind a hand.

"Now, knowing you, you're definitely not gonna' like this," he said, then slid the flyer across the table to Drake. As soon as he saw the words 'Istanbul Museum' his attitude changed completely.

"Oh, no. No way, Flynn. You're outta your damn mind," he said indignantly. Flynn protested heartily.

"Now wait, hear me out-" He was cut off by Drake.

"Flynn, we both know two people who were killed trying to lift something outta this place. They were literally _shot _by the museum guards." Nate was close to yelling by this point, but Flynn jumped back into the argument.

"Yeah, but we also know one who made it out." He retorted.

"Yeah, with a broken leg and a bullet in his back. This is a suicide mission, Flynn, surely you can see that, 45 mil or no," He argued, lightly slamming his fist against the table for emphasis. Flynn refused to be deterred.

"I can't do this without you, Nate," he confessed. "You're the only one with the skills I need to accomplish this mission. And you know better than anyone, it's a two-person job." Nate shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

"No, no no... three, actually." Said Nate angrily. Flynn nodded and smiled wryly.

"Right. And speak of the devil here she approaches at your behest." He said with a tone of voice that matched his amused smile.

Nate twisted in his chair to see a woman walking towards them. She wore a dark red tight fitting top that ended an inch or two above the waistline of her jeans. It showed off her lightly muscled arms and brought out her highly tanned skin. She wore tight fitting jeans that ended just above her knees, and combat boots good for grip and running.

And Nate knew she had a pistol holster on the waistband of her jeans, just above her backside. Nate knew this because he was _very _familiar with Chloe Frazer.

"_What-_" he started, about to jump from his chair, but Chloe stopped him by grasping his hand by way of greeting.

"Chloe Frazer," she introduced herself, even though Drake already knew her. He was about to protest when he looked into her eyes and saw them imploring him to go along with the charade. He decided to listen to her, and see where it got him.

"Nate. Drake - _Nathan_, Drake." He pretend-introduced himself to Chloe. Chloe released his hand then went to sit next to Flynn, running a hand along his shoulders as she did so.

"Hello, Harry." She greeted him as she sat down. Flynn looked at Nate with triumph.

"Chloe's the best driver in the business," he stated. "She'll take _very _good care of us." Nate nodded and glanced at his ex.

"Yeah, I bet she will," Then he turned back to Flynn. "Y'know, Flynn, this is actually more of a _four_-person job." Flynn sighed in exasperation.

"Alright, yes it's a four-person job, and no, I don't have anyone else to help with the job." He said. Drake grinned.

"Well then , it's lucky for you an old friend of mine just recently moved to Istanbul," Nate then flipped his phone out and dialed a number, putting the phone to his ear as he did so. The phone clicked as a man answered.

"Eric? Hey, can you meet us at the Istanbul museum in a few days? We've got a job - 45 mil. Yeah, kay', call you later," He then slid the phone back into his pocket triumphantly. Flynn rolled his eyes.

"Right... anyway, I've got the plan all worked out," he said, opening the pamphlet to show a picture of the schematics of the museum itself.

"_You've _got the plan all worked out? Can I have second thoughts now?" Nate jested as he looked down at the picture. Flynn ignored the remark and continued.

"We go in through the sewer, get into the courtyard, Spider-Man up the wall, Batman across the rooftops and just drop right down into the exhibit hall. And from there, Bob's your uncle." He said, sinking back into his chair as though waiting for applause. He got none.

"Since we're Spider-Man-ing up the wall and Batman-ing across the roof, should I bring my Batman outfit? Chloe, you can be Catwoman, and Flynn can be 'Spidey." Nate said with amusement. Flynn grinned.

"So long as you can get your 'Eric' friend to be Robin," He said. "Anyway, what is the object that needs 'acquiring', I hear you ask-" he said, and Nate interrupted with a "I didn't" as Flynn turned the page and pointed to a green object circled in red marker.

Nate nearly dropped his wine again.

"_That's _it? A nicely decorated oil lamp?" He said, staring at the picture of the green oil lamp covered in intricate markings and carvings. Flynn nodded, simply saying "yeah" in agreement. Drake laughed in bemusement.

"Wha- that thing is literally _worthless_... I don't get it." Chloe nodded in agreement, saying her first words since greeting Flynn and Drake.

"Well, neither do we, and that's why we tracked you down." Drake nodded and leaned forward.

"Yeah, well it sound like you're working for a damn nutcase," he said, enticing a slight chuckle from Flynn. "Some... collector, who's got way too much time and money on his hands and uses it to send people on suicide missions to steal teapots. This lamp? It's not worth any of it." He said angrily, gesturing wildly at the oil lamp photo. Nate glanced up from the photo to find Flynn smirking.

"But there's more..." He said over-dramatically and passed Nate a yellowed piece of paper so old it seemed more like parchment, with a paragraph written in another language on it. "How's your thirteenth-century Latin, mate?" He asked as Nate looked over the paper.

"Where the hell did you get this?" He asked Flynn and Chloe in wonder. Flynn leaned back in his chair and took a gulp of wine before answering.

"We 'borrowed' it, from the... files of the nutcase." Drake began translating the Latin paragraph, speaking it aloud.

" 'In Trebizond we were set upon by thieves. Father, Maffeo and I were robbed of our greatest treasures...' " Nate looked up from the entry in awe. "This passage was written by Marco Polo." He said excitedly. Chloe nodded.

"Well, we were able to work that out easily," she said.

"Unfortunately, the rest of it's a buncha' gibberish." Flynn sighed.

Fortunately, it wasn't.

"Wait, hang on a sec" Nate said, still running through the paragraph. " 'So that it should not fall into the wrong hands, I concealed my great sorrow in the unlikeliest place. The light of the Great Khan shelters... the fate of the _thirteen_." Flynn wasn't deterred.

"See? Gibberish." But realization dawned on Chloe's face and she leaned forward in excitement.

"He's talking about the lost fleet!" She gasped, grinning. Nate nodded in agreement along with a "yeah..." As he hurriedly pulled out a world map and spread it out on the table. Flynn was utterly bemused.

"Um, hello, does someone wanna' fill me in here?" He asked, looking back and forth between Chloe and Drake. Nate leaned forward and began to tell the story.

"Marco Polo left China with 600 passengers and fourteen ships, each one loaded with treasures from Kublai Khan," he explained, a finger tracing the ships route across the ocean. "He landed in Persia a year or two later, but with only one ship left, and eighteen passengers. Now, he recorded every detail of the journey but he never wrote or told what happened to all the ships, and all the passengers."

Chloe leaned in.

"So, somewhere out there are thirteen ships loaded with gold and jewels just waiting to be found-" Drake cut her off.

"Yeah, and that's what your client is after," He held up the picture of the lamp. "Look at this - the carvings? It's Mongolian script, must've been one of Kublai Khan's treasure..." Flynn plucked the picture out of Nate's hands and studied the etchings.

" 'The light of the great Khan, shelters the fate of the thirteen'." He and Chloe quoted in unison. Nate leaned forward again.

"Marco Polo hid something _inside _that lamp. Something that pinpoints the sight of the thirteen." He sat back, and the trio lapsed into silence.

"So," Chloe broke the silence. "We're giving this client the boot, aren't we?" Flynn and Drake agreed, with loud choruses of "Damn straight" from Nate and "Absolutely" from Flynn, enticing a laugh from Chloe. Flynn stood, followed by Chloe.

"So, you in?" Flynn asked Nate. Nate shrugged and stood too.

"What the hell," He said with a grin. "I mean what could possibly go wrong?" They clinked their glasses together and drank a toast, accompanied by the soothing crash of waves against the shore and the hooting of seagulls high in the air.


End file.
